Future Imperfect: Mother and Son
by vendetta543
Summary: Only fate could conspire to make a parent and child so different from one another. Non-canon Future Imperfect draft.


**Most likely non-canon draft for Future Imperfect. No reason for writing this really, this is mostly just to let everyone know I'm not dead yet:) If you don't care about this, then don't read.**

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The snow fell down in droves, covering the uphill path in a thick blanket of white. Light footsteps crunched against the snow, the only sound around the area other than the blowing of the wind against the trees. Through the white and snow, the small figure continued to walk up the small hill.

Saito looked up at the graying sky, eyes unfocused and half closed from a mixture of both the cold and exhaustion. Tightening his small fists against the thick jacket, the 9 year old child inhaled and did his best to try and keep warm. A task which he was failing miserably if the redness around his pale cheeks was any indication.

He had run away from the Academy. He didn't know why, he just did. Maybe he was tired of it all, tired of feeling like an outcast in this time period (Though that title technically applied to more than just him). Maybe he just didn't want to deal with the erratic behavior of his so called "Family" and just wanted to get away from it all. Either way, he was here now and he found the privacy he so desperately craved.

And he hated it. He thought that getting away from it all would be exactly what he needed, that maybe staying away from those lunatics who called themselves his siblings would calm him down. But it didn't. All he felt was unrest and uncertainty. No matter what he did he couldn't let go of the gnawing feeling in his chest that something was wrong; that something was missing.

So distracted was he by his thoughts that he didn't even realize that the path had stopped and now he was standing on top of the small hill. Well, small would have been an understatement. Even through the thick sheet that covered everything, he could still see the shapes of various structures: Slides, swing sets, benches, see-saws, and various other implements that wouldn't look out of place in a playground or park.

The view he got from being on top of the hill wasn't bad either. In fairy tales he heard often when he was younger, it wasn't uncommon for the hill to overlook a town covered in a soft blanket of snow while various bright lights lit up the sky. Bonus points if the town somehow managed to turn on all their lights at the same time and the bright ray of hope, and friendship, and other cheap concepts managed to pierce through the dark gray environment.

This wasn't one of those views. The sky remained a dark gray, dying the entire area in a permanent haze of saturated neutrality. No lights lit up the town, at least not where they could be seen. The faint lights he could see were either too dim to be noticeable or too small to break through the grayness that permeated the entire area.

Unconsciously, he walked over to the see saw and placed a hand on one of the raised sides. Maybe it was curiosity or maybe just plain boredom, but he suddenly felt the urge to ride on the imbalanced contraption. He was halfway into putting his leg over the seat before he stopped himself, quickly moving away from the playground accessory and heaving a sigh of disappointment.

He was acting immature. Though his parent's and many others might have said that it was okay to act that way due to his age, he refused to listen to them. He didn't have time to act like that, not now. Not when he had to deal with the whole "Parental abandonment" and "Future Bleeding effect" issue here. The former he could deal with no problem, the latter not so much.

Speaking of the latter...

"Agh!" Saito clenched his teeth and held his right arm tightly, doing his best to stop the tears from bypassing his closed eyelids, [I]'It's just temporary. It'll go away soon, it'll go away soon. Please let it go away soon,[/I]' The manta - the same mantra he'd started repeating ever since this started happening - repeated in his head like some mad chant.

He never really believed the time machine nonsense, at least not until recently. With this happening to him now, there was no way he couldn't point to time travel as a form of explanation. He didn't even know what this was; Usagi had told him it was a form of time distortion, an anomaly she had aptly described as "The Bleeding Effect". Apparently the actions of his future self were starting to affect him, and his future self seemed to be a masochist since he kept receiving new wounds every other day.

"It hurts..." The snow crunched softly around him as his knees buckled and sent him to the ground. This was unbearable. It wasn't enough that he had to be in constant pain - No, he could handle pain just fine - it was the fact that it was so erratic that made it impossible to adapt. The longer a human being stayed in a state of injury, the more used to the pain they get and easier it is to dull. Unfortunately, the anomaly was bipolar and would phase in injuries in or out at random intervals. One minute he would be in pain, the next he felt like he got injected with happy pills, and then back to pain again. Injuries literally vanished from his eyes only to re-appear again.

Through half lidded eyes, he saw crimson blood drip down from his forehead onto the pure white snow at his feet. It reminded him of the fairy tale he heard long ago, about a princess named after her beautiful pale skin mixed with her crimson red color. Saito thought it was idiotic that people could make prose out of blood and snow. He had pale skin, and he certainly didn't feel like a fairy tale prince right now. If anything, he felt like a hospital victim.

His left hand was also bleeding, though to a marginally lesser extent compared to his forehead. He could make out flashes of injuries; a geyser of blood extending from his left ring finger, the feeling of a knife passing through it, and then pain so extreme he felt himself black out. Of course the last part didn't happen. It would've been way too consistent if that happened.

Sometimes he could hear voices enter his head, as if he was talking to someone who he had no idea was there. He never paid attention to their words; he was usually too busy trying to stop himself from yelling his lungs out. He could sometimes make out words or images when he focused, but they were always fragmented or disjointed. Recently he'd been getting images of a tropical island, of a poker game, and someone laughing as he drove a knife through his left ring finger and removed it from his hand. If this was his future, then maybe he had reason to be scared of growing up.

Even now when he stood in this abandoned playground, he refused to utter even a single whimper. Who knew how the others were coping with their other effects? Granted he seemed to have gotten the worst one of them all, but it would've been wrong of him to think he was more important than everybody else.

And so he stood there, for how long he didn't know. As soon as the pain reached its peak, it was gone. The blood on the snow disappeared, like it was never there to begin with. Pain left his body quickly, only to be replaced with a feeling of calmness and exhaustion. This always happened, no matter what. All he had to do was resist until the pain would stop and he was safe again...at least temporarily. It would come again, and maybe worse this time, he just didn't want to think about it.

He never told anyone this. Not his Mother, not his Father, and not even his own twin sister. They couldn't do anything for him no matter what they tried. Sure they could try, maybe even give him sympathy if he asked for it, but ultimately it all would've been pointless. He would rather suffer this in his solitude than be blanketed by their fake words of encouragement and their pitying glances.

Many would call his attitude odd for his age, and he probably would've laughed and agreed with them had they said this out loud. He was an outcast; other kids considered him abnormal for his behavior and, though he never suffered stigmatization for it, he could never relate fully. Adults treated him like a child wishing to grow up faster, patronizing him even when they knew he was right and they were wrong. Even his own parents.

While others were playing hide and seek and talking about going to the game center, he had to focus on what to make for dinner and to make sure that he didn't overspend his money lest he be forced to ask his parents for extras. His parents were well of, this much he knew, but they were too busy with their own problems that he didn't want to bother them with something as trivial as extra pocket money.

He had to cook for both Aria and himself whenever the two of them were left alone, which was just about every day of the week. Sure there were maid's in the household to do the chores, but neither he or Aria ever really felt like eating the foods they prepared. Every time they did, both of them were forced to eat either some kind of overtly healthy garbage that couldn't even be considered food, or some kind of fancy cuisine that neither could pronounce and tasted like boiled cabbage stewed over hot sauce. Come to think of it, maybe that actually was what they ate.

He didn't hate his parent's for it, but neither could he say he felt overt affection for them. They were present at times, but they were never really there. His father Ichika was closer to him, being that he had less duties, but he was still kept busy due to his role as the one and only male IS pilot. His mother was too busy running the Sarashiki's with his Aunt Tatenashi that he barely had time to even tell her goodnight.

"...This stinks..." The low comment was followed by a bitter chuckle. He hated his life, he hated what he'd become in trying to cope with it. He knew this was just melodramatic whining; his own father had lost his parents at a young age, and yet he didn't let it govern every part of his life. He moved on.

And yet, a bitter part of his mind interjected, it wasn't he who was forced to grow up to take care of them both. His father's older sister took care of them both, while his father breezed through life without a worry, riding on his sister's hard work. Saito didn't have that luxury. It was either he grow up faster, or he let both Aria and him stew in resentment till they turned bitter. The choice was obvious.

Wiping the snow off his face, Saito stood up shakily and made his way to the swing set. The chains were weak and obviously worn, but it was good bet that the swing had its fair share of uses left in it. Again he felt the temptation to ride in the primitive form of amusement, and again he crushed the urge. There was no time for that. Besides, it took two people to play this game.

"..Saito?"

Well, how about that?

Saito turned around slowly, not even surprised to find his mother staring at him with curious eyes. Perhaps mother wasn't the right term to describe her, since the time machine sent them back in time and all. The girl in front of him was only 15 years of age, and only 6 years above him in seniority. Kanzashi Sarashiki had not given birth to either him or Aria yet.

"...Kanzashi..." He saw her flinch slightly at the use of her first name, "...Is something wrong?"

The two of them really hadn't talked lately, especially not after that whole debacle last Sunday. He refused to call her mom again and justified himself by stating in no uncertain terms that she wasn't his mother, at least not yet. No doubt when...if he and Aria manage to get back, he had to call her that again. Until then, they might as well have been not related.

"I...went looking for you," She fiddled lightly on the green sweater she wore, stretching the fabric as far as she could take it, "Um...are you...alright?"

Saito couldn't stop himself. He just laughed, softly and slowly like a madman. She was worried about him? After all the years she'd left both him and Aria in the care of baby sitter's and nannies, she suddenly felt the urge to ask that? It took a couple of seconds before logic reached his head again and he remembered that he was in the past; she had no idea what she did in the future, and even if she did it wasn't like she did anything wrong.

"I'm fine...I just want to be alone..."

Kanzashi received the message. He didn't want anyone to be here, not even her. He wanted her gone, at least for a little while, and just wallow in his solitude till he remembered he had to go back.

"Then...just ignore me..." Pursing her lips, gave a small hmph and plopped down onto one of the swings. The chains gave some weak signs of being pressured, but otherwise the entire thing remained completely stable and balanced. Saito ignored her and continued to stare out onto the gray view.

"You know...this was my favorite park..." She commented idly. Saito gave no response, so she continued, "Onee-chan and I...we always used to play here with our parents when we were younger. ...I'd play on the swing sets and she would climb the slide...and say she was queen of the world..." Her voice cracked at the last sentence.

"..." Saito looked to the side and nearly fell over at the sight. Kanzashi was crying, tiny droplets falling down the side of her petite face. She gave no sound, no whimper, and yet the tears continued to fall without interruption.

"...And then...Mom and Dad would laugh and join in. ...Dad would take pictures of us and Mom would get us ice cream. ...Whatever...flavor we wanted," She gripped the swing-sets chains firmly, "I...would always think to myself that it would be best...if it lasted forever. That I never grow up..." She tried to laugh, but only a coked cry managed to come out.

This was news to him. Even though she was his mother, she never told them anything about her past. He had to admit that separating the difference between her and his mother was beginning to get harder and harder the more vulnerable and open she got.

"Do...you have any memories like that?"

"No." That one word felt like an instant punch to the stomach for the young teen, "...The only thing our family ever did together...were those formal parties that all of us had to attend together. ...Every time else...we never spent too much time together."

"...I'm sorry..." Saito was going to tell her she wasn't at fault, but she interrupted him, "I'm sorry...for everything..." Another sob and another wave of tears broke through, "I've been a horrible mother...whether I know it or not. I'm sorry...I'll try harder next time..." Her lips quivered, though it wasn't from the cold, "I'm sorry...I'll try to do better..."

"Stop..."

"I...don't know what I did...and I don't know if my promise means anything...but please don't cry again," Saito once again tried to voice his disapproval, but was stopped when she placed a finger atop his lips as a shush gesture, "I've seen you hide it...I know what it's like. ...I did it too when I was younger."

Oh, fate just had a dark sense of humor, didn't it? A son who did his best to grow up so he wouldn't get hurt, and a mother who wanted to remain a child to forget about her problems. Anybody with an ironic sense of humor would've been rolling on the floor in laughter if he/she saw them now.

"...It's not your fault..." Great, now he felt like an ungrateful brat. Not only was he acting spoiled, he was forcing someone who had no idea of what she did to apologize for something she knew nothing about. He had to find a way to break the awkward atmosphere and stop the tearjerker parade. And hopefully while this was happening, the anomaly wouldn't hit again and she'd get even more worried.

"Ahh...!" Kanzashi gave a small squeak as two small hands pressed into her back and pushed her forward. Not by much really, but enough for her to swing into the air for a couple of seconds before rebounding back as gravity and momentum hit and she was forced barreling back.

Straight onto her son.

"Saito...!" She got up from the swing set and rushed to the sprawled out kid, "Are...Are you alright...?"

She hastily cleaned up the snow from his face and removed the long bangs to get a better look into his face. She expected him to be in pain, or for him to be angry due to no doubt having a sore bum from the fall. What she found instead was completely different.

He was smiling. Not one those forced smiles or those he gave when he was being ironic, but a pure childlike smile full of mirth and enjoyment. Something that wouldn't have looked out of place if he was a normal carefree child. It was an expression he did his best to suppress even when he was alone. There was something else there though, something which he thought he'd lost.

Hope.

Her words had given him what he thought he had lost. Hope for the future being better and hope for things to improve even after all he'd seen.

"Let's go again...!"

She could only nod numbly as he led her back to the swings, this time tapping the swings seats rather ecstatically. Kanzashi was about to plop down down on them again before an idea suddenly came on her.

Saito was about to encircle her and push her again before he felt his arm getting pulled rather forcefully. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself falling haphazardly onto Kanzashi's lap as her arms wrapped around his in a protective hug. The sudden warmth and closeness caused a small amount of redness to spread across his cheeks.

"...Together!" She took a deep breath and kicked her feet against the ground, forcing the swing to take to the air once again.

Or at least it would've, had the chain not snapped from the combined weight of an extra body and send them sprawling into the snow. Mother and son could only stare up at the gray sky incredulously as the realization of what happened slowly reached their brains. They could think of only one thing to do.

They laughed. There was no reason, no cause. They simply laughed as much as they could. Maybe both of them were going crazy, or maybe both were just glad to have reached an understanding. Either way it didn't stop the cheerfulness that permeated the air.

"Saito...we should go back," Kanzashi stood up and helped her son off the ground, "Don't be sad anymore, okay? I'm here if you need me."

"Yeah, thanks...Mom."

Kanzashi felt her heart skip a beat, "Ah...you're welcome," Was this the so called maternal instinct? Maybe things were going to be better now.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"...I...love you."

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**End draft. Now, I really don't know whether I will use this in the Final Future Imperfect or not. The atmosphere seems way too angsty for me to put it in. I'll just place this here in case anyone wants to read.**


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